by M. S. Parker
I hated to admit it, but she was right. I cut into the conversation before it went down the wrong path. “What did you find out?”
“After you two…left before, I contacted a friend at the police station to ask about Luis and the cartel members who were arrested. Luis was still in jail, but the cartel had been bailed out that same morning. I got the impression that it had been someone unexpected too. In the past week, all of the men who’d been arrested have been killed and left in some very public places.”
“What about Luis?” Tess asked.
I couldn’t tell if she was worried about him, but I told myself that it didn’t matter. She was with me. Concern over the life of a fellow human wasn’t the same as what she and I had.
“Still in jail and safe,” Brianne said. “From what I could find out, they’re trying to get him to flip on the cartel. Since he doesn’t have any family, they figure they can get him somewhere safe and not worry about any repercussions.”
“Were you able to figure out who the person was who bailed them out?” I asked as Tess processed the information she’d just been given.
“Someone from the US Embassy.”
“Fuck me.” I leaned back in the chair. “Was it the ambassador?”
“I don’t think so,” Bri said. “I made a few inquiries, and there’ve been a couple other people from DC down here on and off for the past couple weeks. I haven’t been able to figure out who they are though. Everyone’s being really tight-lipped.”
Between the kidnapping of a Red Care group and members of a cartel being murdered, I didn’t blame them for tightening their security.
“Do you know what anyone from the embassy looks like?” Tess asked.
Brianne pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened her photos. Tess and I moved to either side of Bri so we could all see them at once.
Three pictures in, Tess cursed. “I’ve seen him before.” She pointed at a young, stocky man in an ill-fitting suit. “I did a piece on some new legislation the Secretary of Commerce was trying to get passed, and this guy wouldn’t let me in to see Secretary Munroe. I can’t remember his name, but he was the secretary’s assistant.”
“Secretary Munroe.” Brianne frowned. “As far as I know, he’s not in the loop about our team.”
Suddenly, the secretary’s face popped into my head. “Son of a bitch.”
Both sisters turned to me.
“What?” Brianne asked.
“When I met with Secretary Ganesh back in DC, I saw Secretary Munroe nearby. He was talking to Secretary Ganesh’s assistant, Kathrine something. They looked a lot friendlier than passing acquaintances should look.”
“Munroe’s having an affair with Ganesh’s assistant,” Brianne said slowly. “She could have access to classified files, including ones about my team.”
“And Secretary Ganesh has been trying to draft deals with the Costa Rican and Colombian governments in regard to the penalties they place on drug cartels. There’s bound to be information about the cartel in Costa Rica.” I pinched my nose in an attempt to prevent the throbbing in my head from becoming a full-blown headache.
“If there’s a leak in the Secretary of State’s office,” Tess said slowly, “how are we supposed to get the information to him without Secretary Munroe finding out?”
That was an excellent question.
Twenty-Eight
Tess
“We have to go back to DC,” I said, breaking the silence. “We have to talk to Secretary Ganesh face-to-face, alone. That’s the only way we’ll be able to ensure that none of this gets out.”
“It won’t be enough just to tell him that we know what’s going on,” Clay said. “We need evidence to prove what we’re theorizing. Because that’s all we really have. Theories.”
Brianne sighed. “You’re right. We need proof. Dammit.”
“These pictures are part of that,” I said. “We can connect the cartel to the assistant, and the assistant to the Secretary of Commerce. We can connect Secretary Ganesh to his assistant. What we need is evidence that Secretary Munroe and Secretary Ganesh’s assistant are having an affair. That will show the link all the way from the top to the cartel.”
“All that really does is prove that six degrees of separation is a thing,” Brianne said. “We need more than words and a college nerd game.”
I shook my head, knowing exactly what we needed to look for. “A money trail. When in doubt, follow the money.”
“We need receipts for that,” Clay said, thrumming his fingers on his knees. “And those sorts of things take time. A confession would be better, but I’m not sure one of those is likely.”
“I have an idea,” Bri said, leaning forward, something that looked like hope crossing her features. “But it involves the risk of being arrested, so I think I should handle it myself.”
“It’s not like I’m down here as an FBI agent,” Clay said wryly.
“Still,” I said, “we should keep you as far away from the more illegal aspects of what we might have to do.”
He looked offended, his eyes narrowing as he studied my face. “I know how to maneuver my way around the law.”
I knew better than to argue with him about this. He was as stubborn as I was when it came to doing what he thought was right. Which meant we needed to set the guidelines up before we went any further, because if we didn’t cover it now, he’d do whatever he wanted and claim he didn’t know he wasn’t supposed to do it.
“Let’s break up what we need to do then,” I said, clapping my hands together before reaching for my pen. “Make sure we cover everything.”
“I’m staying here.”
My head whipped around to see Brianne looking at me with a placid expression on her face, as if she hadn’t said something completely insane.
“Excuse me?”
“I have a few things here I need to tie up. You guys can fly back to DC tomorrow morning, and I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
I stared at her. “Are you kidding me? You’re really doing this again?”
“I’m not doing anything again,” she said calmly. “I’m talking through a plan with you both and informing you of what my part of the plan will be. There are things here, parts in play that I can’t discuss, even after what I’ve already told you. This isn’t something I can pass off to either of you.”
I folded my arms and glared at her. “All right, but you’re telling Mom.”
Bri frowned. “This isn’t exactly something I can share with our mother.”
“That’s your problem,” I said, anger and frustration burning a hole in my gut. “Tell her whatever you want, and I’ll support it. I just refuse to be the one to call her and try to give her an explanation about what’s been going on the past two months.”
Brianne’s eyes locked with mine for a few seconds, and then she nodded. “Deal.”
“Okay then.” I looked over at Clay. “Let’s get started.”
Twenty-Nine
Clay
Tess and I settled onto Rylan’s plane much more easily than we had the first time, maybe because we were going home now, or maybe because we had a plan to finally end all this shit. I didn’t know what that would mean for Tess and me, or for Brianne for that matter, but anything was better than unending questions with no end in sight.
Even though Tess and I had actually slept last night, we were both exhausted enough that we fell asleep within minutes of the plane taking off and didn’t wake until we were ready to land. While I appreciated the rest, sleeping on a plane tended to make my jet lag worse, but any time I spent with Tess at my side was good.
As the two of us walked across the tarmac toward the waiting car, my phone started going off with text alerts.
“Someone missed you,” Tess said.
I shrugged, leaving my phone where it was until she and I were in the back of the car and the driver was taking us to a hotel. When I finally checked my messages, I wished I hadn’t.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“My parents.” I skimmed the messages without bothering to check my voicemails. They’d say the same thing. “I didn’t tell them I left DC again. They called a couple times yesterday to invite me to dinner, and I obviously didn’t get those calls. Today, they’ve switched to text messages, which means they’re pissed. They hate texting.”
“Tell them you’ll come tonight.”
“I’m not going to dinner at their house tonight,” I said with a laugh. “We have much more important things to do.”
“Actually, we don’t,” she said. “We know Secretary Munroe won’t be back in DC until tomorrow. You can go to dinner at your parents’ place.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, squeezing her hand. “We do this together or not at all.”
The pleased expression on her face made me realize that I might have inadvertently made more of a dinner invitation than I’d intended.
My parents knew Tess, of course, and they’d met her again recently, but even though we’d been sleeping together, this was something different. We were something different.
“A home-cooked meal sounds really good.” She leaned against me.
“You do remember that my mother doesn’t actually cook the meals, right?”
Tess laughed. “I remember. Is the cook still Mrs. Trevino?”
“No, she retired about five years ago. The new cook is Levi Freema. He’s not as good at pasta as Mrs. T used to be, but he’s amazing when it comes to anything to do with chicken.”
We fell into a companionable silence, but my brain was anything but silent. My thoughts were chaotic, but they all centered around how my parents might react to the news that Tess and I were involved. Especially since there were still so many questions about the future. She and I hadn’t talked about what we would call each other, how fast we each wanted to go, if one or the other of us was going to move, where we’d move.
But I knew that wasn’t really what would matter to my parents. I didn’t know if my mother remembered telling me once that I wasn’t allowed to date Brianne, but I sure did. Brianne had never been the person I’d wanted, but all of my parents’ objections to her also applied to Tess. Was it possible that they’d grown as people? Or that they’d realized that they couldn’t control my life now that I was an adult?
Anything was possible, I supposed.
Not that it would make anything about the dinner easier or clearer. I supposed I’d have to just see how things went. At least I wouldn’t be going through it alone.
Thirty
Tess
Clay had been antsy ever since we’d landed at the airport, and it only got worse the closer we got to dinner with his parents. He refused to tell me what he was thinking; instead, he brushed off my questions and changed the subject. He wasn’t lying, but I couldn’t help wondering if things would’ve been easier for him if he shared. I could have called him on it anyway, if I’d wanted to, but a good portion of the issues we’d had so far had been communication-based…and my fault. He deserved to have time in his head if that was what he needed.
As we walked up the steps to the front door of the Kurths’ DC home, I reached over and took Clay’s hand. He offered a tight smile, then laced his fingers between mine, his grip almost hard enough to hurt. Whatever was on his mind, I suspected his parents were a part of it.
It was possible they’d changed their minds about their influence over Clay’s romantic life, but it was more likely I would be walking into a veritable hornets’ nest once Clay told his parents why I was with him.
If he told them.
He and I hadn’t talked about what we’d tell people. It really hadn’t crossed my mind in any sort of serious way, to be honest. Brianne already knew what was going on and she was really the only person I had to tell. I could’ve called my mom, but she and I didn’t really have that close of a relationship.
All of those thoughts paraded through my mind in a flash, and then we were smiling at Mrs. Kurth as she opened the door. Her gaze flicked to me, eyes widening the slightest bit before she turned back to Clay and greeted him warmly.
“Tess, what a surprise,” she said as Clay and I stepped inside.
I shook the snow from my hair, using it as an excuse to not respond right away. She’d never been mean to me, but I’d always suspected it was because she’d never thought Clay would look in my direction. Once she realized that he and I were together, things would most likely change, and probably not for the better. Still, I had hope that maybe now she’d judge me on who I was as a person rather than where I’d come from.
I would never be old money or move in the right types of social circles, but I wasn’t a screw-up. I had a good job at a respected paper. I paid my bills and took care of myself. I didn’t sleep around – though that wasn’t something I planned on discussing with the Kurths – and I didn’t spend time with the ‘wrong’ people, though more out of a lack of desire to be social than actually agreeing with the Kurths’ assessment of what the wrong person was.
“It shouldn’t be a surprise, Mother,” Clay said with a tight smile. “When I told you I was coming, I said she was coming with me.”
“Silly me,” Mrs. Kurth said with a little cough. “Shall we go into the parlor?”
Clay and I used to make fun of how they’d referred to their front room as the parlor because it’d always sounded so pretentious, and I found that I still found it amusing. Judging by the glint in Clay’s eyes as he gave me a sideways glance, he thought the same.
“It’s good to see you again.” Congressman Kurth stepped forward with an outstretched hand, and as I shook it, I had the strangest sensation of being on a campaign trail. Not in a bad way, but rather more like he just didn’t know how to turn off being a politician.
“You too.” I shook his hand, wondering if other people felt as awkward shaking his hand in what should have been a personal setting.
“So, Tess, when will you be going back to New York?”
Clay shot a glare at his mother.
“I’m not sure,” I answered before Clay could. “It depends on how long it takes me to put together the story I’m working on.”
“And what’s that about?” Mr. Kurth asked as we all sat down, the elder Kurths each taking an armchair while Clay and I sat side-by-side on the loveseat.
“Government corruption,” I said sweetly. Clay went stiff next to me, and Mrs. Kurth’s eyes narrowed, but I didn’t let that stop me. “Specifically the growing drug problem in South America and what the US government is doing to try to keep it from coming into the States.”
The Congressman kept smiling, but his face was impossible to read.
“I’m going to go check with Chef to see if he’s ready for us.” Mrs. Kurth stood again even though she’d only been sitting down for a couple minutes.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are you finding DC after being gone for so long?” Congressman Kurth crossed one long leg over the other and rested his hands on his knee. “I’m assuming that you haven’t been back since your family left, right?”
“I haven’t,” I said. “It’s been weird coming back as an adult, seeing places that I remembered from being a teenager.”
Clay kept my hand clasped tightly in his but didn’t say a word as his father continued to make small talk with me. Mrs. Kurth didn’t return to the parlor for several minutes, and when she did, it was to announce that dinner was served. Privately, I wondered if she’d gone to hurry up the cook, wanting to shorten the evening rather than simply inquiring if he was ready for us.
“I’d like to wash my hands before we eat,” I said.
Clay went to stand. “I’ll take–”
“There’s a washroom down that hall.” Mrs. Kurth pointed. “Second door on the right.”
“Do you remember where the dining room is?” Clay asked quietly.
I nodded. “I do.”
“Don’t be too long.” He leaned over and kissed my temple.
“Clay?”
I hurried down the hall before I could hear how they phrased the question. I ducked into the bathroom, wincing as I saw the fatigue in my reflection. It wasn’t too evident, not for anyone who didn’t know me. Fortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Kurth didn’t know me, not well enough to tell how exhausted I was. I’d slept on the plane and had even taken a nap before we’d come here, but none of it had done much of anything.
When I emerged from the bathroom, I felt a little better, and a lot readier to face off with the Kurths. I turned to make my way down the hall when I caught a glimpse of a picture on the wall, one I hadn’t seen at the fundraiser.
Congressman Kurth shaking hands with Secretary Munroe at what looked like a Christmas party.
That gave me pause, and those few seconds allowed me to see more. Two more pictures of Secretary Munroe with the Congressman, one of which appeared to be on a fishing trip. None of the pictures had Clay in them, and I let myself hope that meant he hadn’t known that his father was on friendly terms with Secretary Munroe. No, not hope. I knew Clay didn’t have anything to do with Secretary Munroe and he didn’t know about the family connection. I was through not trusting him.
I wasn’t, however, sure that this was something I needed to tell him. If it turned out to be something, I wouldn’t hide it, but I wanted more proof than a couple photos that could’ve been taken any time in the last ten years. I fully intended to go to the dining room and save the investigating for another time, but I found myself in front of the partially open door to Congressman Kurth’s office with no idea when I’d get this opportunity again.
